


The Little Mermaid (With a Big Attitude)

by tobylove (orphan_account)



Series: Lovers, Not Losers [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Compliant, Crushes, F/M, I mean... they're high, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Crush, Trippy, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tobylove
Summary: All Richie wants to do is capture a merman's heart. And his tail.But mostly his heart.





	The Little Mermaid (With a Big Attitude)

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully this is a pretty long one shot and gets me out of my writer's block. again, another silly idea that i thought i should write//
> 
> i wrote this to the bridge & law remix of pumped up kicks! by my favorite band, foster the people :,-)

Bill was the last one to go, other than the two of them.

He coughed and his body racked and he gave them an apologetic smile, and then Stan pulled him out by the arms."Sorry _again,_ guys," he said, this time with no stutter--and they both assured him it was no big deal. Two thumbs up was all that either of them could manage, but that was good enough.

They had done this before, all of them--and it was crazy and slightly ironic how the order of who tapped out didn't change. They had all done it before, yes--and the first time was for good reason. _Great_ reason. To find out some insight on where It came from and why It was here. To learn how to do _some_ ritual that now Richie didn't even remember the name of.

To beat It.

And they did... seemingly, they did.

So they didn't have to worry about that anymore.

But they didn't have any good reason to do it this time--to sit in their clubhouse with a fire, eyes burning and lungs filled with murky smoke. Risking smoke poisoning. This was kinda inconvenient, when they thought about it. Even past the poisoning potential, Officer Nell had told them to stop playing down in the Barrens _years_ ago. And, to add insult to injury: the clubhouse that they all put their money and bolts and heart and soul to make... was much too small for all of them now. It looked like some kiddie playhouse--which Richie now supposed it was. Some fairyland house. They all barely fit inside. Mike's hair brushed against the ceiling, but Richie had to crouch.

With all of that being said--the risk, the inconvenience, the non-urgency, Officer Nell--why were they down here in their childhood clubhouse, playing with fire again?

It was simple. They wanted to finally be normal teenagers.

They wanted to get high.

(Or as close to high as they could get.)

So they all sat down there in the clubhouse, looking like normal-sized people in a hobbit-house, or like they were sitting in some kiddie chairs at Georgie's old tea parties; seven pairs of eyes glued to that flickering flame. Smoke billowed all around them--sticking to their hair, their shoes and their skin like cigarette smoke. Tears had been streaming down Ben's face from the sting. Eddie had coughed--only twice.

"This is stupid," Stan had said, sort of like how he did the first time--and he coughed twice, too. They were as crisp and orderly as he was himself.

Then, one by one their friends streamed out, Stan first (like the first time)... all of them coughing and gasping and dry-retching. With Bill last.

"Just you and me, Mikey," Richie had joked, but joking felt too heavy in his chest. Mike smiled--but his eyes rolled lightly to the back of his head, and it looked like he was on the verge of passing out. That scared the _fuck_ out of Richie. For the first time since they started, he began to think that _maybe_ this was a stupid fucking idea. It was downright Weird City, and they all took a right on Dumbass Lane. Well, _he_ did. It was mostly his idea.

Mike reached out for his hand, grabbed it, squeezed it. Richie smiled. There was familiarity in that. "Just me and you," Mike said--and there was familiarity in that, too.

Now things were starting to get cloudy. His eyes stung badly, and he was sure that smoke had gotten underneath his contact lenses. But that cloudiness, that big grey cloudiness, that swept over his entire body and cancelled out the sting... It would take him, whether he wanted to take out his contacts or not. He was a little scared, but he felt better now. Because Mike was there, he was still there, even though again he felt so far away... and that was something to whoop and holler about. It'd be fine. They'd hold each other's hands and see whatever they were supposed to see, and even have a few chucks.

It would be fine.

_(sleepy sleepy)_

It would be

_(close your eyes, and say goodnight. haha)_

It would

_(go to sleep little baby)_

be pitch-black.

* * *

And he stood out in that darkness.

He put his hands out in front of his face, just to make sure they were there. This was kind of new. It wasn't pitch-black the first time. What _wasn't_ new was that he was all alone. He tried to prepare himself for this; somehow, he knew it would happen like this--but being alone in the vast, inky darkness instilled a new genre of fear into him.

"Richie?" he said, more-so a question than a calling-out. No answer--not really. Mumbling. Incoherent mumbling, far away. _So_ far away. Hopefully that was him. He just had to get to him.

He called out to him again. "Richie?" And again. "Richie!" And again. _"Richie!"_ Every time, they leaned more and more on desperation. He shivered from head to toe--like that one time that it was pouring down rain, and him and Daddy had to pick all the greens out of the garden before the rain spoiled them. But he stopped and listened. This time, he could hear him. Faintly. Then a little louder. And louder, until it seemed to be all around him.

"Mike? _Mike!_ Michael?"

Mike turned around. There he was, just like last time, thank Jesus Himself. They both laughed, the sound reverberating from the walls of the weird black-box. They found each other again. And when they found each other again is how they both knew that they had reached The Other Side.

Richie's face was split by a grin and he broke into his Australian Bloke Voice. "Oi, Mikey! Didn't think I'd find'ya, mate. Glad I did when I did; 'twas about ta have a proper bitch fit."

Mike gave Richie back his own wide smile. "Yo, that wasn't half-bad. Your Voices are getting a lot better."

 _"See?"_ Richie said, shot his voice up several octaves, and pumped his fist with victory. "I _told_ ole' Spaghetti that I was getting better! Tell him that when we come back. He doesn't believe _me._ Pretty sure if he heard it from _you,_ he would!"

"Sure, I'll vouch for you," Mike said, and his smile turned into a crooked grin. He would most certainly "forget" to tell Eddie that he thought that Richie's Voices were improving. But really, they were--they were beginning to sound less like him and more like the actual character that he was portraying. That improvement leaked into his ventriloquism-- _and_ his comedy.

But both of them fell silent when they looked straight into the distance and saw something erect in the distance. Its’ lightly-colored wood stood out starkly against the darkness of the dimensional plane. It was a door. It looked much too small to walk through standing straight up. Mike would have to duck--and Richie would have careen his head and limbs through, like some sort of gangly cryptid.

"Where do you think _that_ leads to?" Mike asked, pointing off to it. Richie had kept his grin and shrugged.

"Let's be like dumb people in a horror movie and find out," Richie said. "Be like the Mystery Gang. Solving _mysteries._ "

"Oh, really? Is _that_ what they do?" Mike asked, and laughed when Richie flipped him the bird. Hey, it was all in good fun. And when you're in the middle of some vast darkness with just you, one of your friends, and some mysterious wooden door... fun is really all that you can try to have.

It seemed like they walked forever until they neared the door. Both of them gasped. They didn't really _have_ to point out what they saw on the door, but they did anyway--maybe just to make sure they were seeing the same thing.

"There's a sign on the door," Mike said. "The same sign on the door we went inside when we all..."

Richie put his hand on the knob of the door, but he didn't turn it. "Michael, I'm serious. If this shit leads to that fucking clown, I'm _out._ You're free to come with."

"That sounds like an offer I can't refuse," Mike joked back... but of course, both of their jokes had an element of truth hidden in them.

"Well, we're in it for the long haul now." Richie said. "Just remember my offer, though!"

He opened the door. They ducked and careened through. They stepped through that threshold.

That threshold to The Other Side.

* * *

It was pretty there. The sky was grayish-white and cloudy, and Richie and Mike's hair and lashes kissed against the leaves of oversized palm trees. The air was heavy with pressure, with the promise of rain, but still pleasant. There was a beach, with clean, white sand and speckles of little black pebbles. There seemed to be some sort of palace in the distance. There were houses on the hillside.

"Hey, this place kinda looks like Florida," Mike said, and he smiled.

"It does, doesn't it?" Richie asked, and his eyes burned brightly with warm nostalgia. He smiled back. "Or California."

They didn't get very far in walking in the warm sand before someone came up to them. It was a guy around their age, his facial hair already growing in for years; enough for him to shave it. His cheeks were round and dimples rested deeply in them, like lingering chubbiness from weight loss, maybe. They had _totally, never in their life_ seen this guy before... who were they kidding. It was Ben in a suit. He smiled at them warmly with his hands tucked behind his back.

 _"Haystack!"_ Richie exclaimed, and pulled Ben into a quick hug--which the latter took with grace. The former's eyes glittered with stars, happy to see another one of his and Mike's friends. He hadn't wanted him and Mike to be so isolated and lonely. Maybe the others would make their debut as well?

"Richard, Michael," Ben said, regarding them as he would in normal circumstances... other than their full names and the fact that he was sort of dressed like a flight attendant. Or like a host in a hotel (he had a little hat bobby-pinned in his hair and everything). He shimmied himself into the middle of them, and linked arms with both of them--Richie on his left, and Mike on his right.

"Ben! What are you doing here?" Mike asked.

Ben laughed in the quiet, endearing way that he always did. "I live here, man," he said. "Welcome to Pheromaine, guys. I'm your tour guide. I don't bite; I'm just here to show you around."

"Aren't you hot in that suit?" Mike asked, and furrowed his brows.

"But what about you being an architect?" Richie blurted out--thankfully they were outside, because he asked a little too loudly. Him and Mike had asked their questions at the exact same time, and it made Ben laugh again.

"Kinda," he answered, "And I do that, too. I built... ah, pretty much all the houses on the coast. And they used my blueprints to build the palace for the King and Queen." He pointed to the aforementioned palace. "Who live right over... there. They're super nice; they rule together... but they're not really married. I don't guess. I dunno, it's weird."

"You built _all_ of these?" Richie asked, and cocked his head to the side in stupefied wonder. "Dude, that's _sick._ "

Ben blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, Rich."

They all got into a groove after awhile: Ben would point out something to the pair, like a sign or a place, and rattle off facts about the topic. Richie had been spacing out, admiring all of the pretty sights and sounds--he was trying to pay attention, he really was--but Mike was completely on board with this. He asked Ben did he have any paper, to which Ben had smiled and given him an entire notebook and a pen. Mike thanked him gratefully. And returned the kindness with taking notes and giving Ben his undivided attention.

There were people sitting up high in the oversized palm trees, and that had gotten the pair's attention. Not just because they were people sitting in an oversized palm tree, but also because these people had wings. They were bright, vibrant colors; yellows and reds and greens. These people were laughing and squawking back and forth to each other, and preening their feathers with their hands.

Ben pointed them out, and when they saw him pointing, they smiled and whistled a song for him. Ben smiled back. "Those are bird-people," he told Richie and Mike. "They're natives here. We've got tons of diversity in this little ole' place."

Richie snickered and pointed to one of the bird-people. "Yo--is that _Stan the Man?_ "

Lo and behold, it _was_ indeed Stan. He looked up mid-preen at the mention of his name, looked down at the pair of tourists and the guide, and held up a nonchalant peace-sign. A little half-smile was playing on his face.

"It is," Ben affirmed to then. "He's a Stan Canary, if we're being exact. Well, all of those people up there right now are canaries, but you know. The toucan-people don't really hang out over here."

Richie had grinned and winked at the Stan Canary still perched in the tree, and leaned his head over so he could see what Mike was putting in his notes:

_ Stanley_

  * _a canary --- > bright, yellow feathers_
  * _basically just Stan with wings_
  * _he's still beautiful_
  * _lovely, too  
_



As Ben was telling the pairing about different bird-people in the area, Stan Canary flew down and perched himself onto Mike's shoulder. Mike thought that he would stagger considerably sideways to the weight... but birdie was (pun intended) as light as a feather. Ben cut himself off mid-sentence and smiled at the new addition to their posse.

 _"Staaaaaan!"_ Richie exclaimed--well, more-so _screeched_ \--and ruffled Stan's hair. His hair billowed in and around his face, the curls highlighted with specks of gold.

"Hey, Richie. Hey, Mike," he said flatly, but he seemed excited to see them nonetheless (as that half-smile was still on his face.) And also, because he said: "Sorry if I scared you, by the way. I got a ticket to a _Broad_ way show, and I wanted the best seat in the house."

Everybody looked at Stan and blinked. He chuckled just a bit at his own joke, in typical Stan (Canary) fashion.

"Heh. Get it? Broadway? Because his shoulders are broad. No...? Okay." He waved his hand in the air. "Whatever."

 _"Ohhh!"_ Ben and Mike both said at the same time, and finally laughed and chuckled at his joke. But Richie couldn't help but to squint his eyes, because Stan's humor has always been just so... _obscure._ Stan's smile sprouted back on his face, and Richie could see that Mike had a bright blush that exploded on his. 

"Oh... thanks, Stan," Mike said--and Richie figured that if _he_ had wings, Mike would've most likely flown away.

Stan shifted on his shoulder. "Haha. No mention it, dude."

"Are you staying along for the ride?" Ben asked the canary, who shrugged in his not-so-but-very-so nonchalant way.

"Yeah. More like the flight, really," Stan answered without missing a beat. Now that one, _that joke,_ was chuckalicious--and one that Richie understood right off the bat. Because he's bird-dude, _har har!_ Stan the Bird Man Gets Off a Good One! Many Good Ones! But then, what was the difference between Bird Stan and Normal Stan? They were both hilarious, in their own quirky Stan-ish way.

Ben had told Richie and Mike that they were nearing the end of their tour. And afterwards they could head up to the palace and meet the King and Queen... but not without first learning about the merpeople that lived on the beach. They lay on their sides near the shoreline, or on their stomachs, and primped and combed their hair with the pointy ends of seashells. Some of them scoured the sand for goodies, while others just chatted and enjoyed each other's company. Ben pointed to them.

"The Queen has always wanted to be friends with a mermaid," Ben told them, and they listened to the melodic laughter of the aquatic people. He shrugged. "Or a mer-dude. It doesn't really matter to her. But I'm just warning you right now--that's probably going to be all she talks about. How much she loves the merpeople that live here. I mean, most of them are all really nice, so I see what she means."

"No they're not," Stan interjected. "Betty is nice, and... I take it back. I'm sure a lot of merpeople are nice. But from personal experience, a lot of them _hate_ Avians. They make fun of us when we fly around the beach. We've gotten trash thrown at us, and they try to pluck off our feathers."

"Gross," Mike said, and grimaced. "I know _all_ about that type of deal."

"Aw, Stan," Ben said with a small smile. "They just sound like assholes in general. I'm pretty sure they're not assholes just because they're merpeople, you know? Don't let a few rotten apples spoil the whole bunch for ya."

"You're right; I'm sorry," Stan said, and when he crossed his arms, a few loose yellow feathers fluttered to the ground. He frowned, and Richie could see the pain in his eyes. "But it's _our_ fucking beach, too."

Richie ruffled Stan's hair again in good spirit, and then took a good look at the merpeople lounging in the sand.

His eyes caught on one in particular--one that Richie thought could and would never be mean to Stan and the other birds; one that looked so sweet and innocent and pure. His eyes were wide and mimicked Stan's hair, with streaks of gold near the irises. Freckles littered over his face and shoulders like gold and purple glitter. His glasses looked like they were made from steel wire and Coke bottles. And his tail ombre'd from pink to a dark red, like a blossoming rose.

(goddamn it's Eds he's _beautiful_ like holy shit what the fuck) _  
_

"And who's that cutie over there?" Richie asked, and pointed directly to him. The cute little fishy was fiddling around with something in his hand. It was smooth and white, and it looked like a stone. He anxiously tossed it back and forth in his hands. What was he so nervous about? A guy as cute as Eds shouldn't have to deal with _any_ worries in the world.

"Eddie?" Stan said, and let out a scoff-chuckle. "Dude, you _know_ it's Eddie."

"Eddie? _I'm totally just now_ hearing that name for the _first time_. Well anywho, I'm _starving,_ " Richie said, and clapped his hands together. Everybody in their newly-formed posse turned their attentions to him. "Who's in the mood for some seafood? I know _I_ am."

"Shut the hell up," Stan answered, and flicked Richie in the forehead with his index finger and his thumb. And Richie laughed, and joked, but like before... that was one of those jokes that had the truth hidden in them.

* * *

After they had met Sir and Her Majesty--who were just Bill and Bev (which like Ben said, they weren't married--they were like a platonic power couple? It's complicated)--they went back to the shore. Queen Bev had ranted and raved about how nice and sweet all of the merpeople were in the kingdom... just like Ben said she would. But she talked at length, and nobody interrupted her because she had such a vivaciousness and a passion when she talked. Stan and Mike regarded her with awe, Richie thought she was pretty cool (and pretty cute)... and Ben had looked at her like she was the entire world.

There was nothing in this universe that was as pretty as she, according to him. He looked as if he wanted to give her every diamond and every jewel, every orb, including the ones that he called eyes that were lodged in the sockets on his face. Richie figured that if Ben's eyes were actual diamonds, then he would find some way to take them out of his face and give them to the Queen. Because he thought she deserved them.

" _Please_ bring back a merperson with you," King Bill said with a smile (King of the Bill? Richie would have to save that joke for later). "Just so she can talk to the damn guy. If you make friends with a mermaid, or a merman, just bring 'em on back, too."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ben said, and got down on one knee to bow to the two of them. "We'll try our hardest to woo one on the way. We'll be super nice. It shouldn't be that hard--"

Queen Bev had laughed herself almost as red as her hair. Then she winked."Thanks, fellas. And you _know_ you don't have to bow to us like that, Benny. We're not _that_ uptight!"

Ben flushed--Mike wasn't sure if it was because of embarrassment or just because of the nickname, but he stammered. "I-I'm sorry, ma'am!"

She laughed more, the noise coming out in streams of snorting giggles. Bill was smiling, too. "No 'ma'am,' either!"

"U-uh, I'm sorry... Your Majesty!"

"It's okay! Really. You're adorable," Queen Bev said with a smile lingering on her face--and Mike was positive that this time, Ben was blushing because of the nickname. But he couldn't make fun of anybody too much--because the Queen had said: "Bring me back a friend, y'all! Can I have a song before you guys leave?" And Stan had whistled her a tune, like the one that he had done earlier in the palm tree with his friends. It was so familiar sounding, and so pretty and pleasant, just like Stan... that Mike was certain that he had fallen in love.

"So what should I get him to _seduce_ him?" Richie had asked with a childish mischief as soon as they had all left the palace. "Gimme some ideas, here! Like, what do merpeople like?"

"Shells," Stan said simply--and when they had gotten back to the beach, he picked one up and examined it. "This will do. Hey Ben, can I borrow one of your bobby pins?"

"Sure," Ben answered, smiled, and pulled one out of his hair. His hat wobbled a bit on his head, but stayed otherwise secured in his hair. Stan found some netting and used some of it to hold the bobby pin and the seashell in place, fashioning it into a homemade barrette. He handed it over to Richie. "Here. Give him this. I think he'll like it."

 _"Thanks, Stanny!"_ Richie said, holding the shell in his hands as if he were just seeing a hair-clip for the first time. "Adds a whole new definition to the 'lend me your comb' thing. Amirite?"

Stan's eyes lit up at the (again, obscure) reference; he gave Richie finger-guns and another half-smile. _"Haaa! Ha._ Nice."

( _he's so cute_ my heart my heart what do I do with my heart)

Richie beamed at Stan's approval--and, still grinning from ear-to-ear, walked over to the merpeople that were still lounging in the cloudy weather. He cleared his throat loudly, and all of the maids and dudes that were laying in the sand whipped their heads up and regarded him harshly. Including Eddie, who he was trying to court. _This_ wasn't going to go well. All that Mike, Stan, and Ben could do was watch the disaster from a safe distance. Even though all of the friendly fins seemed absolutely annoyed, Richie was not detoured.

He outstretched his arms in the little dude's direction--maybe Mike was imagining it, but he could see that Richie's hands were shaking. "This is for you, dear male-Ariel. Or... Maleiel."

"Ri...?" Eddie started, and furrowed his eyebrows in that way that he _knew_ Richie thought was just so cute--but then cut himself off. He took the shell barrette and actually clipped it in his hair. Then he smiled and blushed and downcast his eyes. "Oh, thank you _so much,_ Stranger That I've Never Seen Before. You make me blush. I feel so pretty now. All because of you."

If Richie could grin any wider, then Mike was sure that he would've. His eyes gleamed with that starstruck glow again--and Mike even saw that he was blushing himself. "Wait, really? You really mean it, Eds?"

"Of course I do, Richie. I love you! Kiss me."

And then Eddie put his hands on Richie's shoulder with his eyes lidded, sitting up in the sand and titling his head up to (what Richie would call himself) the Latino Casanova. Richie actually seemed like he was getting really into it--he closed his eyes, the blush very apparent on his face now, his bangs tangling with his eyelashes. Poor guy. He should've known that not everything is what it seems.

Well, it wasn't Eddie's _lips_ that Richie kissed--it was his tail fin as it connected to his face with a wet _splat._ It didn't seem like it was a hard smack--but it was potent enough to catch Richie off-guard. Eddie slithered his way over to other to the shoreline and flipped himself on his back so that he was floating on the foamy water.

 _"Sike,"_ he said. He flipped over onto his stomach and swam away from the shallow end of the water and deeper into the sea.

And like that, he was gone.

Richie blinked twice. Ben and Mike looked at each other, then at Richie, in twin faces of bewilderment... but Stan looked like he was on the verge of tears from holding back his laughter. He snickered once--only once, that's all that he would allow. But his smile was erased instantly when he saw Richie taking off all of his clothes, keeping on just his underwear and his Starry Night socks.

"Richie, what the hell are you doing?" he asked. Richie turned around to face them.

"That little minx, he got me; he thinks he won, but now he owes me a kiss," Richie said--and he didn't seem angry at all. If anything, his face radiated with a competitive smirk. "This is war, Spaghetti. Pure, saucy war. And I will win."

"Rich, you're gonna drown," Mike said, and chuckled uneasily. All Richie did is break off into his best Evil Villain laughter as he waded into the water. He puffed out his cheeks with air, held his nose, and ducked himself in.

 _"Goddamn it,"_ Stan muttered. Ben looked just as uneasy as Mike himself did.

They only knew one thing: Richie was in the sea now--no gills, no air tank--hellbent on settling some imaginary score.

* * *

His eyes stung a little, and that was because he forgot to take into account that he wasn't supposed to swim with his contacts in. But sting or no sting, he saw Eddie, swimming slowly, thinking that Richie wouldn't be dense (or foolish) enough to dive into the sea to chase him.

Eddie should know by now that he was both dense _and_ the World's Biggest Fool.

He chuckled and made a little closed-mouth noise--a little _mmmhmm!_ (which in his mind, translated to _Eddieeee!_ ) Eddie turned around, his cute dark hair billowing around him like seaweed, and he sighed. 

"What the _hell_ do you want, Rich?" Eddie snapped, but it seemed half-hearted. Even though he balled up his cute little fists and planted them firmly at his sides. "Stop following me!"

"Mmm-hm-hm-hm!" Richie hummed to him.  _I want you love!_ He put his hands in front of his chest and brought them up into a little heart. Eddie sighed again and rolled his eyes... but it didn't seem like his heart was in it to be truly angry or annoyed. Or maybe that was just Richie's best trait of Wishful Thinking. Maybe he was a genie and his wishes paid off, though... because Eddie's tightly pursed lips cocked up into a smile. 

"I can swim a helluva lot longer than you can," he said. "Like, I, actually _belong_ down here. _You_ don't. You're gonna drown if you don't stop playing around."

Richie billowed his hands out as if he were in some sort of Shakespearean play, and looked up to the surface with dramatics. "Mmm-mm-mm-mm- _hmm_ , Smm-mmhm!" _I would die for_ you, _Spaghetti!_ But then he tried to laugh, accidentally opened his mouth, and damned himself. Some of the salty satanic water went into his mouth and tried to drown out his lungs. He started to cough. His poor smoker's lungs were probably already shriveled up and black. He coughed harder--pinwheeling his arms around, trying to grab on to something, _anything,_ to no avail.

Eddie looked deliciously pissed now, like _really_ pissed, and _extremely_ worried. "Richie, I'm _serious. Stop it!_ This isn't funny anymore. Swim back up!"

Now his cute little joke had turned into actual fear. He wasn't the best swimmer in the world. He wasn't good at rationing his air--and of course, that dirty little habit that he had that made his lungs turn into even more shit. He clawed at the water, then his chest, then his throat--and Eddie dropped any animosity that he felt in that moment once he saw that Richie was being serious. He swam over to his drowning friend, linked arms with him, brought them both quickly to the surface. Richie gasped and coughed and heaved.

Stan, Mike, and Ben were waiting for them, all with identical expressions of fear on their face. And when you've scared Stan with some stupid ass antics, you _know_ you've gone too far. Ben was on Stan's back, Mike being held up in Stan's arms by the waist. They were cruising just above the water, and Richie could see the bottom of Mike's Nikes if he tilted his head all the way up.

Finally, he caught his breath and smiled despite it all. "Oh, Spaghetti! You saved my life!" He flung himself at Eddie, giving him exaggerated kisses on the cheeks. "My hero!"

Eddie pushed him off--gave him a hard push, too. "You dumbass," he growled... but his voice was weird and warbly. "Don't do that again."

Stan didn't _say_ these words, per-say, but Richie could tell from his Stanley Death Glare ™ that he was _thinking_ the same sentiment. Mike and Ben both let out bouts of nervous laughter. But what Stan _did_ say was: "Grab Mikey's hands and we'll pull you out. Christ."

"Well, okay," Richie said, and grabbed one of Mike's hands--and _ding!_ \--suddenly, he had an idea. Mike did exactly what he wanted, grabbed his one hand with both his arms... and Richie grabbed Eddie around the waist. Stan huffed and all four of them titled down considerably, and he flapped his wings rapidly to make up for the extra weight. Then, before Richie knew it, all of them were airborne, then back on the shore.

"Fuck," Eddie said. "I knew it was a setup. Why did I even bother."

"Because you love me!" Richie answered him, giddily... and this time, Eddie didn't even dignify him with a response.

* * *

"Wow, you guys actually did it!" the Queen said when they made it back to the palace. "I was _just_ kidding, ya know." But she seemed amused nonetheless.

Richie had put his clothes back on, but he was still soaking wet and dripping all over the floor. He was holding Eddie bridal-style, who flapped his tail and begrudgingly held onto Richie's neck for support. Ben began to bow again, stopped himself mid-way through, and just blushed and nodded instead.

The King laughed and waved. "Hey, Eddie."

Eddie gave a long, exasperated sigh. "Hi, Big Bill."

"You okay? You seem a little under the weather," King Bill joked... but when Eddie glared at him (v _ery_ half-heartedly), Bill actually backed off with a grin.

"Well, I guess I should give you guys a little something for actually going through all of this trouble," Bev said, and grinned herself. "I mean Eddie, really--look how _pretty_ you are! Your tail is kick-ass!"

Eddie blushed and gave his first cheery smile of the entire day. "Aww. Thanks, Bev."

"Ah, don't thank me, babe. I'm sure these fellas really pestered the hell out of you, though. I thought they were just gonna pick some random merperson. But in since it's you, I'm gonna pay you extra collateral!"

She motioned for Richie to come over to her, and while he was still holding Eddie, she draped tons of jewelry on his wrists and neck. All of it looked like real pearls and real gold, and Eddie looked absolutely ecstatic. She then pulled out what appeared to be a golden tiara, and stuck it into Eddie's hair. He was beaming now.

"You guys! You didn't have to give me all of this!" Eddie exclaimed, but Bill and Bev both laughed and told him that they wanted him to have it.

"Now, now, the men of the hour," Bev said, and motioned for Mike to step up over to their throne as well. "What do I give to you suckers...? Well, Mikey. _You're_ not a sucker!"

"And _I_ am?" Richie asked in mock offense. All of the other six instantly said yes, and laughed--and Richie cackled himself, with a shrug.

"But I know _exactly_ what to give you, in all seriousness," Bev said, her grin still playing on her face. She took one of the two long tridents on the side of their throne. She made Mike and Richie bow on their knees--Bill held Eddie in the meantime, just so he wouldn't have to lay on the floor. Then, she bopped them both lightly on the noses--Mike first, and Richie second. Specks of--what, glitter?--sprinkled from the trident and stuck in their hair. But it wasn't glitter--it felt lighter, cleaner, like morning dew on grass. Or how Mike had always imagined stardust to feel.

Richie took these two weird sounding breaths, as if he were learning how to breathe again... and Mike's own back felt scratchy and odd. He touched back on his shoulder and realized that his sweater now had a considerable hole on where his shoulder blade was. He touched the other shoulder, just for kicks--there was an identical hole on the other side. He pulled his hand back and came back with two black feathers. The wings stopped just above the back of his overalls.

"Boom! There you go," Bev said, and wiped her hands on her dress triumphantly. "I'm sorry that the feathers are black, Mikey. But at least you can fly now!"

"Oh!" Mike said, and blushed--again--despite himself. "Wow! Thank you, Bev!"

"Sick wings, Dark Angel," Richie smirked. "But what happened to _me?_ "

"Go back with Eddie and swim for a little while," Bill said, and him and Bev grinned at each other knowingly. "You'll see."

"Yeah geez, guys--that doesn't sound ominous at _all,_ " Richie said... but it was all in good spirit. He went over to Bill, picked Eddie back up as if he were swaddling a newborn child (Eddie sighed, but otherwise didn't complain), and the four of them bid the King and Queen a thank you and a good farewell. All of them gave both their Highness kisses on the tops of their hands.

 

The beach was still littered with merpeople by the time they flew back--now with Ben on Mike's back and Eddie being held by his waist, and Richie being Stan by the arms. They landed, and Richie picked Eddie back up in his bridal-style position and led them both to the water.

"Well, here goes nothin'," Richie said, and dunked them both in. And this time

 _"I ain't drowning!"_ Richie yelled, and he cackled and pumped his fists. He had just now raised his hand up to his neck to realize that there were two light slits on either side, where his new gills were. "I'm a fucking _fiiiish!_ " 

 _"Great,"_ Eddie said, "Now you can be annoying for as long as you want. _And,_ to add insult to injury, in _my_ fucking domain." He put his hands on his hips, and glared... but then broke character with a wide smile.

"I _knew_ you'd come around, baby!" Richie said, and took a rock that he picked up before they got in the water, and threw it at Eddie. He dodged it, raising an eyebrow... and then took his tail fin and smacked Richie in the face like he did before. When he lowered it back down, he could see that Richie's face had a red fin-mark on it, and he actually looked a little ticked off.

 _"Ow, Eds. That actually hurt!"_ he whined.

"Call me Eds again and I can make it hurt more," Eddie responded, and he finally cracked and laughed. "Making it hurt more" was _so_ laced in innuendo, that Richie didn't think he'd actually mind. Richie mumbled something about him being some sort of "little minx", and he grabbed the thicker part of Eddie's tail and flipped him upside-down. Eddie was still laughing as he righted himself back up. Richie pulled them close in together and Eddie tried to half-heartedly push him away.

"You still owe me that kiss," Richie teased--and didn't expect to get teased back.

"I sure do, don't I," Eddie said flatly, and rolled his eyes again like it was going to kill him if he did this... then broke again and smiled at the last second, right before they finally kissed. _Finally._

 

"Well, in since you have those wings now, you should do me a favor," Stan said, and Mike perked his eyebrows at him. Stan said: "You should fly with me."

Now, there was one thing about Michael that he had never, _would_ never, admit to Stan. He was scared of birds. Downright terrified. And he wasn't too keen on heights, either. At first, he mentally freaked out that Bill and Bev had decided to turn him into a can of Redbull (' _cause Redbull gives you wiiiings,_ he heard Richie say)... but he thought he understood it now. He was as transparent as all of the history books that he liked to read. They did this on purpose.

"Wait, really?" He asked. "Like you want me to, for real?"

"Yes, silly," Stan said. His face was completely deadpanned and it made Mike laugh. Stan broke and gave him one of his goofy little smiles. "Ben, get on my back. We're all going for a little ride."

"Well shucks, Stan," Ben said, and chuckled... but he complied and got on Stan's back anyway. He was proving himself to be a strong little bird.

At first, it was awkward and clunky and he bumped into trees like a moth tapping against a bulb. That made Stan laugh, and that was enough for him. "You'll get used to it the more you move around!" Stan yelled over to him, (and Ben had yelled: "You _got_ this, man!") Which he was right--it really wasn't that bad. They flew around in a little rotation; a circle of black and yellow. Then Stan closed the gap and flew him and Ben over to where Mike was.

"Hey. Thanks for being so cool through all of this," Stan muttered, and blushed... and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Mike's nose brightened like Rudolph, even though it was _nowhere_ near December. Ben took one arm from around Stan's neck and gave Mike a thumbs-up with a huge grin. Mike grinned at him back, even though now he was slightly flustered. Shit, was he really that obvious? To his defense, Ben was his best friend. But did everybody know...?

"And... did you really _mean_ that?" Stan added, and furrowed his eyebrows a little. "That I'm beautiful? And lovely?"

"Of course I did," Mike replied, and even though his chest burned with a dizzy fire, he swallowed the flame. "You're the loveliest, Stanley."

 

And then, when they were all back together, the four of them... Richie and Mike had looked up at the sky. The clouds hung low and threatening; they drooped as if they were sad. A fat teardrop fell on Richie's face, right between his brows, and he crossed his eyes to look at it as it trailed down his nose. More and more drops fell, faster and faster now; Mike instinctively held his hands over his head, not wanting his hair to coil and shrink back up. The drizzle turned into rain, the rain turned into a storm--a real downpour... and then Richie and Mike saw that door again. That wooden door, with the symbol on the front.

Mike looked over to Richie, and the two of them shared a knowing look. "Guess it's time to go back, Mikey", he said

_(they're not waking up holy shit they're not waking up)_

and Mike smiled and nodded. "It was fun," he said.

_(fun and beautiful like Eddie and lovely like Stan)_

"We gotta do it again sometime, mate," Richie agreed. He said it with his Australian Bloke Voice, and this got the two of them laughing again. They laughed so hard that they coughed and choked

_(oh my god! they're okay, they're really okay)_

and couldn't stop.

It did kinda suck, though, having to go back and face reality. Being able to say things in this cute little rainy, tropic island of Pheromaine; say things that you were too scared to say--or didn't want to say, because you thought you'd fuck it up--in real life. Things like that

_(I love you Eddie I'm not even fucking joking kiss me kiss me for real)_

wouldn't be said in real life

_(I'm scared of birds there I said it I'm scared but for you I can manage)_

unless you found the courage to.

They stood up, completely drenched, both of their hair curling and coiling from the rain, and Richie put his hand on the doorknob again. They didn't even realize that, again, they were holding hands. Richie opened the door. They saw the inky darkness on the other side

_(Y'all are almost there. C'mon, guys--wake up!)_

and stepped back through the threshold, leaving all of their gills and training wings and love for

_(Eddie and Stan)_

adventure in Pheromaine for now.

But oh, trust and believe folks, they would be back eventually. That love doesn't just die with time.

They were back on the other side of the door and again only saw pitch

_(there they are! they're awake, thank god!)_

black, black, black.

* * *

Both of them sat up coughing--from the smoke, from the homecoming, from the rain pooling in their faces. It was dark and stormy in the Barrens--pouring down rain, with thunder on the horizon. Richie and Mike had both looked over their shoulders and saw that the clubhouse door had been swung open, and somebody had pulled them out. Just like last time. They both looked at each other and broke into more lazy chuckles.

 _"G-guys!"_ Bill said, and he had to stop himself and slow down before he began to stutter. "Are you okay? Should we call 911?"

"Nah, think m'good, mate," Richie said, but his voice sounded really hazy and far away. Mike found it in himself to keep up the chuckles. Chucks all day round.

"Are you sure? You guys had us worried there for a sec... are you okay, Mike?"

"I'm fine, thank you," he said... and seeing their state, Richie didn't know how Mike was able to keep it together and still be polite.

"When you feel better, I swear I'm going to beat the shit out of you," Eddie threatened, but he sounded more worried than angry. For now. "Fuck you and your stupid ass idea. We didn't even have to do it this time. We're not doing it again, I swear on my mom. We're not doing it again. Really."

"I swear on her, too," Richie said, and gave a dim smile, hazy but wide. Eddie closed his eyes and balled his fist up at his side, probably contemplating on whether he should hit Richie or not. He settled on the latter. But everybody else laughed--Bill with relief, Ben with his nervous laughter; a trait that him and Mike both shared. Bev, laughing so hard she could've been crying, or maybe she already was (or maybe it was just the rain), and Stan with only a deep chuckle, shaking his head, his mouth turned up into a little smile.

 

But Richie didn't want all of that love to end. That wanderlust love. That adventure love. He was actually going to tell Eddie how he felt tomorrow, goddamn it. He was gonna swing him around and take all of his fire-and-ice and then kiss him all over his freckled face. He was gonna tell him how he _actually_ felt. Him and Mike had talked about it, hours later: "I'm definitely going to ask Eddie on a date," he had told Mike, and Mike had grinned and patted him on the back. "You should start flirting with Stan pronto. He _loves_ affection, y'know."

"Haha, maybe I will," Mike said--but when he blushed, Richie knew that ole' Mikey had taken it to heart.

That adventure love was the strongest thing. The _most magical_ thing. It was strong, and magical, and real. It was real enough that Mike had looked down and saw that his notebook was still in his hands, with all of the notes he took in blue pen still inside. And when Richie looked in the mirror, he saw flecks of glitter

_(stardust)_

on his jaw and lips. Specks of purple and gold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
